


With a Better Grace

by Goingagain (Dizzydodo)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Corruption, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Happy Murder Family, Oops, Past Abuse, Porn with Feelings, Pseudoscience, Rating May Change, Self-Indulgent, The Master Has Issues (Doctor Who), Touch-Starved, dark!Reader, forgot one, the tags are darker than the fic I think, twisted fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:28:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25064671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dizzydodo/pseuds/Goingagain
Summary: The Master comes for an invaluable treasure, but leaves with a companion instead. She's hurting, and he knows how to heal her though it's a bitter cure. He's broken, and she's determined to hold him together.Or: a series of snapshots from reader's path to hell, paved with only the best intentions.
Relationships: The Master (Dhawan)/Reader, The Master (Doctor Who)/Reader, The Master (Doctor Who)/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28





	With a Better Grace

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of trouble tagging this one for some reason, so if anyone has any suggestions please feel free to let me know! 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter include: discussion of indentured servitude, mention of past abuse/solitary isolation, brief description of blood and murder, and minor character death.

After spending the better part of your life mired in trouble up to your neck, you prided yourself on recognizing it no matter what form it took. This time it looked something like a middling human man, pinstripe pants and a plum jacket that didn’t come near to matching them, washing down a glass of the most expensive drink on offer as though it were pig’s swill. He pulled a face as he finished it off, dropping the glass so it shattered on the marble floor, much to the dismay of his hosts. They whistled and trilled, following after him, their plumage darkening with distress.

They didn’t touch him though; there was no law in this part of the galaxy except what wealth could buy, and the mere fact that he was present at this intimate gathering meant his wealth could buy quite a lot. You briefly considered picking his pocket, a petty vengeance for the staff that would have to clean up his mess and one of the few pleasures left to you on nights like this. 

Your contract was changing hands once again, and once again you found yourself scanning the crowd wondering which of these monsters would buy it out and what they would want of you. Theft you hoped, simple theft. Nothing more to give you nightmares or leave you staggering under the weight of guilt for weeks, hardly able to drag yourself out of your dark little room and on to the next task. In that respect, any of them would have been better than your current keeper. 

Except perhaps the human man whose face had lit up brighter than the sun outside the protective barrier when he caught sight of you. You turned away quickly, mentally cursing yourself for taking too obvious an interest. Your heels kept you from moving fast enough to evade him, too high and impractical to make an escape, and designed to be that way you were sure. You hadn’t managed to cross the hall before he caught up to you, sweeping around to block your only exit but thankfully keeping his hands to himself- your collar had a wicked and indiscriminate bite.

“I take it all of this is for you?” His gesture took in the pristine hall, the exotic dishes laid out on tables where the bidders were stuffing their faces and quizzing their host on your abilities, your experience. The bidding wouldn’t start for hours yet, well into the night or even early morning.

“Yes, sir,” you cast your eyes down, hands clasped at your waist; the proper attitude for a servant, even one so prized as you.

He tutted, “look at me, I didn’t track you down to speak to your hair.”

You obeyed, smoothing out the frown that had gathered between your brows, quelling the glare you had nearly fixed on him. Offending someone that might yet buy your debt was the last thing you wanted tonight, and your stomach was in knots thinking of what punishments he might devise if you were too unruly.

“Better,” he nodded with satisfaction, “now-”

“I’m sorry, did you say you tracked me down?” The words slipped out before you could think better of them, and there was no hiding the way your skin blanched with fear. You didn’t always operate in lawless jurisdictions; the bounty for your arrest was sizable. Worse, the warrant explicitly demanded you be apprehended alive; the only thing worse than being an indentured servant would be becoming a lab specimen. Pried apart and put back together, your anomaly cataloged and studied for replication. 

You wretched and the man stepped back, keeping his brightly polished shoes well away from you. Vain as a peacock, this one.

“Don’t panic, I don’t have time for hysterics.”

“You’re not a bounty hunter?”

He snorted disdainfully, “no, I’m a… wanderer of sorts. But, if I may return to my original thought?” The sharpness in his gaze suggested the only safe answer was an affirmative, but as soon as you nodded he was all smiles and laughter again. “Wonderful. You’re indentured, correct?” His dark eyes flitted to the bright collar about your neck, nose crinkling with visible disgust.

Your fingers flew to the offending device, tracing over it as though for comfort. “Yes,” all of which had been explained in the invitation. Your eyes narrowed in consideration, “but you know that or you wouldn’t be bidding,” you added, voice rising slightly, half a question.

“I’m not here as a bidder, but I understand we have a common interest and I came to make you an offer. One I think you’ll find infinitely more appealing than being auctioned off again.”

“I am under contract with them,” you nodded toward the brightly feathered host, their good humor restored and plumage gradually returning to a bright jade now that their problem guest appeared to be diverted.

He ran a hand across the stubble of his beard, pursing his lips to hide a grin. A chill ran down your spine, some primal instinct clamoring you were in the presence of a predator more lethal than you yet realized. He spoke slowly, as though the thought had just occurred to him, but the sly wink he tipped you belied his inquiring tone, “I imagine there’s a death clause written somewhere in that contract, no?”

You stiffened, “if you touch me, I will phase through you and rip out your heart.”

“Oh,” he laughed, “I have a spare. Though I do appreciate the sentiment.”

You frowned in confusion, leaning back slightly as he reached out to run a calloused finger along your collar. It wasn’t the smooth, soft hand of a merchant, but deceptively strong, nails bluntly filed so they wouldn’t interfere with work. You braced yourself for a shock that never came, teeth unclenching slightly when he finally stepped back again. “But then,” his eyes caught yours, lit by a spark of mischief you didn’t trust, “I suspect you can’t show your claws at all like this.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m saying this necklace doesn’t suit you, darling. I’d take it off for you and you could steal as many hearts as you like,” he laughed at his own witticism, “if you accept my offer.”

“You couldn’t. It’s keyed to my contract holder.” Your fingers splayed in the hollow of your throat, resisting the urge to touch your damned collar again. What if he could? It hadn’t shocked either of you when he touched it, hadn’t clamped about you to cut off precious air, the security mechanism designed more to keep you in check than the guests. It would be an awkward thing to explain, the centerpiece of tonight’s auction escaping or being stolen away.

“Normally I would accept that challenge, but first I want your word that if I take that off, you will do as I ask. Only once, and then you’re free to do whatever you please. Incidentally, if you go back on your word, I will carve your _single_ heart out with a teaspoon. Which I can, and have, done in case you were wondering.” All his false warmth and beaming smiles vanished, face suddenly cold as the barren planet outside. He proffered his hand, “Those are the full and complete terms of my offer. Do they shake here?”

You considered for only a moment. On the one hand, a new and clearly insane master with a single unspecified demand who might well kill you once your work for him was done. On the other, years stretched ahead of you, serving at the whim of creatures that had already stolen too much of your life. If he could give you even a taste of freedom it would be worth the risk. 

You took his hand, starting when he tightened his grip to a point just shy of pain, “excellent! You’ve made the best choice,” he leaned in, lowering his voice as though confiding a secret, “ I am the Master, but you may just call me Master.”

You tried not to roll your eyes and failed dismally, “Of course, Master.”

“Not quite the tone I am used to, but it will do. No objections, I’m sure?”

“You aren’t the first megalomaniac who wanted me to call him master,” you said dryly.

Your co-conspirator glanced around as though just noticing the crowd, brows winging up to his hairline, “right, of course not. Does the name taste too bitter? I went by O for a while. You might call me that instead.”

“Master will do,” you snapped. The less you knew of him the less you could confess if you were caught, and the less it would look like you were a willing pawn in his scheme of things went wrong.

He looked pleasantly surprised, but the gleam in his eyes was sheer deviltry, “there is something cunning in you, my dear. I think we’ll work well together.”

“And my necklace?” Your lips twisted on the word, “when will you take it off?”

“Follow me.”

  
He didn’t speak to you while you trailed behind him, slipping out of the crowd with surprising ease and making for one of the dozens of corridors leading away from the main hall. This fortress had once been a smuggler’s hideout, and while there was no longer any need for the beings outside to hide their work, the building was still riddled with hidden rooms and halls that led nowhere, meant to frustrate and confuse any attackers. Your erstwhile co-conspirator seemed to know his way though, no trace of hesitancy in him. He muttered to himself as he walked, head shaking or nodding every so often, but the language was unknown to you.

Unusual in and of itself. You had picked up a smattering of dozens of traders’ cants in your travels, usually you could at least have identified an origin system, but the structure and tone, what you could make out over the sound of your movements, was unlike anything you had heard before.

So caught up in your quiet study were you that you clipped his heels with the toe of your heel and he jumped as though stung, whirling to glare at you, “watch your feet. Clumsy…” he muttered, trailing off into his whispers again. Ill-tempered, possibly unstable, definitely arrogant; nothing you hadn’t managed before.

“How did you hear about me?”

“Hm? Oh, great admirer of yours, I’ve been following your escapades for years now,” he admitted casually, “that fireworks show on Vega Prime? Beautiful work.”

Sabotaging the central power unit for half of a warring planet had been no mean feat, but you couldn’t find it in you to take pride in it. Wars were always a nasty business, and you had almost singlehandedly determined the victors of that one. Which meant, of course, that you had inadvertently chosen the side that would be hunted down and executed for failing to carry out their coup.

“You’re a warmonger.” _And I made a deal with you, like an idiot._

“Yes.”

“Arms dealer?”

“Occasionally. I’m a freelancer. Master of all trades, you might say,” he added smugly, a new spring in his step.

“Then what do you need with me?”

“Access to the vault here. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they’ve tangled with my kind before,” he added sourly, gaze turning inward for a moment before he pulled himself back to the present. “There’s all manner of nasty surprises tucked away in there, but not many that accounted for something like you,” he whirled to face you again, wagging his finger like he had caught you out, “and you haven’t even poked around it yet. I’m disappointed, to be honest.”

“I’m human,” you chose to ignore the last comment. 

“Neither of us would be here if that was entirely true, would we? Now shut up, I need to think.”

“The security-”

“Shh,” he held up a hand, “don’t even breathe.”

Which unfortunately left you alone with the thoughts he had drudged up again. That you hadn’t escaped, even with so much time, even with your gift, you hadn’t been clever enough.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried in your early days, only the punishment had been severe enough that it was weeks before you stopped waking in a cold sweat, and you still couldn’t sleep in complete darkness. You weren’t sure how long you had spent locked in the tiny room, counting your footsteps while you paced relentlessly, just for something to do. Seven steps forward, three to the side, seven steps back. Repeat and repeat and repeat in the darkness until finally the door opened again.

_One, two, three-_

Finally he was calm, less and less perturbed the farther you ventured, tipping an exaggerated wink or a jaunty salute to the cameras you passed, stepping aside to usher you over the threshold of a door that stained the hem of your dress as you passed over it. The scent of iron was overpowering.

“Sorry,” the Master winced in mock sympathy, “got a little messy there. The good news is, I’ve already dealt with the ah, organic security.”

You gagged, looking everywhere else but at the creature pinned to the door behind you.

“What’s the bad news?”

“Had to change my shirt. Strict dress code at these affairs, I hear.”

“Of course,” you coughed uncomfortably, turning toward the metallic wall before you. Not a wall in truth, but a matrix of devices meant to repel just about any threat. The only thing it couldn’t account for, the only thing no system could yet account for, was a human that could cease to exist at will. This one task, and then you would see exactly what this man’s word was good for, and if he betrayed you, you would tear his heart out as you had threatened and see how long the spare could sustain him.

“Bloodthirsty, aren’t you?” You blinked in surprise, but he only shrugged, “I can read it on your face; I expected a little more subtlety from you but…” He grabbed you without warning, yanking you into him and tearing at the collar all at once. You screamed in shock, grinding your heel into his foot until he snarled, tossing his head to brush his tousled hair from his eyes. His hand came away bloody, your collar clutched in it while the other clamped to your neck, stemming the flow from the vicious gouges in your skin. “Stay still.”

Instinctively you froze, blinking tears out of your eyes while he fiddled with something in his pocket, pressing your head back. It burned; you couldn’t decide whether it was more like the bite of ice or the lick of flame. You tapped your feet, snapped your fingers, looking for something to draw your mind from it. You seized on his voice as he began to whisper again, soothing and gentle in a way you hadn’t heard for years if ever, “good girl, that’s it. Good, stay still for me just a second longer. Just like that.”

_I’m not a child._ You didn’t dare speak it aloud, he might stop, and his voice was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Finally the pain eased, you reached up gingerly, waiting until you felt his thumb feather over your pulse before you dared touch the bare skin there. 

“There will be scars. That was a butcher’s work,” his voice held all a professional’s disdain for an amateur’s effort, and, you imagined, a shade of anger. “I’ll keep this for a memento,” he eyed the collar, already turning it over in his hands, looking for its secrets. “You won’t need it anymore, provided you bring me the thing they keep in there.”

“What is it? What does it look like?” You wanted to kick off your heels and run until you didn’t know the name of the system you stopped in, but you owed him. And it was clear his threat from earlier had been a very sincere promise. Unlike him, you only had a single heart to keep you ticking and you had no desire to die with freedom close enough to touch.

“I’m not sure what it looks like, but it will be the only thing there.”

“If not?”

“Then bring me everything,” he said, with a sneer that suggested that ought to have been obvious.

You took a steadying breath, beginning your ritual as you made for the matrix, _seven, six_ , your fingertips brushed against it as you closed your eyes and nudged it aside, forcing reality to warp around you. Negating it first merely by forcing yourself to exist, and then, with a final thought… not.

  
The Master couldn’t contain a gleeful smile as she disappeared, a needle through the fabric of the universe, first of her kind but not the last if the wrong bidder had acquired her tonight. Fortunately he had planned ahead, leaving his hosts a gift in their life support systems, one infinitely more diverting if less lasting than the customary bottle of wine. Unfortunately it meant his erstwhile companion’s fascinating career would also come to an abrupt end.

The victory rang a little hollow now that he had seen her skill for himself. A human, yes, but one that could fold reality neatly around her, the warp and weft of her own existence. He had always had a soft spot for paradoxes, flaws and catches that if picked apart could pull the universe down around him. He turned the collar over in his hands, inspecting the make of it. Primitive but effective, embedding something solid in her, a tautology that would not allow the paradox to exist, or, in this case not exist.

How she had survived this long with the proverbial knife at her throat was a question that deserved more consideration.

She was there again in the blink of an eye, though faded. It was a second more before she shed the last of her phantom-like aspect; so, there was a state somewhere between perhaps. He almost missed the marble she tossed to him, a bright and gaudy glass of olive and cobalt, absolutely useless. Nothing like the substance he had come for, a gift courtesy of the Doctor and her pets unless he missed his guess. 

“Either the vault has already been cleared out or you have too much time and money on your hands,” she stood straighter now that she had shed her collar, eyes alight with a fire that had been banked when he first felt them raking over him in the grand hall. They had finally begun to blaze again, hot and sharp, slicing into him with ruthless precision. She knew his plan or the sketch of it at least; one could not live a lifetime among predators without learning to recognize their tracks.

“Both, actually,” the Master rocked back on his heels, struck by a new thought. He didn’t have what he had come for, but that didn’t mean he had to accept a complete loss.

She rushed to fill the silence before he could speak again, “if those things find me without my collar, they’ll kill me.”

“You want it back?” He tossed it to the floor, knowing the answer before he ever saw the full-body shudder pass through her.

“I want out,” she answered, meeting him eye for eye. “And I can earn my way.”

“You’re quick to jump into a contract again.”

“I’m desperate, and I know what you are.”

The Master’s hearts stuttered in his chest, kicking into a painful tattoo, “what’s that, love?”

“The Master of all trades, didn’t you say? I only have one, but I’m damn good at it.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. Thief, spy, saboteur…”

“Not a saboteur any more.”

He stepped away, amused when she began to circle him, cutting off the only clean exit, stalking after him boldly. “Are you trying to bargain with me?”

“Just making sure we understand each other,” she tilted her head, studying him, picking him apart and weighing every bit of him. He had seen just such a look on the Doctor’s face not too long ago and it had infuriated him then, but he saw no judgment in this gaze, just shrewd calculus, “Master.” 

Exactly the tone he had been searching for earlier in the evening; his consolation prize was a veritable chameleon and nearly psychic to boot. “We do.” _Better than you think_. The Master spun on his heel, beckoning her after him, “keep up or I will leave you behind to burn with the rest of them.”

“You’re going to scorch an entire planet for spite?” Disbelief, the faintest edge of disapproval, but beneath it all a whisper of relief. He could make something of her in time, a clever pet trained for all manner of lucrative tricks for a start.

“‘Planet’ is generous, but it’s large enough the whole quadrant will smell like burnt feathers for months. Foul,” the Master offered his hand once more, the bargain ready to be struck. She leaned against the wall, glancing away from him just long enough to free the clasp on her heels and kicking them away viciously. “Tick _tock_ ,” he snapped, matching his tone with a click of his fingers. His patience was in dangerously short supply after the evening’s disappointment.

She seized his hand like a lifeline, pulling him into a headlong run. His steps stuttered as the warmth of her scalded his palm unexpectedly, chasing away the ice that seemed to have gilded his skin throughout all the years he had spent alone stranded on a planet he hated with creatures he couldn’t bear to touch. The Master tightened his grip, pulling her to him to move in lockstep down the interminable corridors. He hadn’t set out to find a companion, but he was always looking for some way to relieve his crushing boredom.

He thought perhaps he might have found one.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is lifted from Twelfth Night, "He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural."
> 
> Concrit is always welcome- this is my first reader fic and I was impatient to write it so I'm sure there is room for improvement.
> 
> Full disclosure: I only watched Spyfall part 1 before drafting this, and now that I've finished I'm trying to decide whether to go with a canon-compliant ending or not. The ending is very much up in the air, hence part of the difficulty tagging. 
> 
> Finally, I really shouldn't be starting another fic, and honestly would rather read everyone else's at the moment so the next update might take time while I cruise through the entire archive collection of Master/Reader fics. Know of any somewhere else? Please, for the love of all that is good, link me. Dhawan's Master really threw me into a tailspin here.


End file.
